


Rhythmic Frequencies

by Quantum_Entropy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Audiophile, M/M, Science, a little dark, basshead, idk - Freeform, is that even what its called?, maybe a little weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:22:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28140840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quantum_Entropy/pseuds/Quantum_Entropy
Summary: Everything in the universe - every element, every compound and every structure - has it's own frequency signature. If met with a matching frequency, the structure begins to experience a chaotic change in balance. Sometimes, this results in a catastrophic failure of structural integrity (glass shattering by the sonic blast of a jet breaking the sound barrier). Sometimes, this results in a change in structure entirely (compound elements vibrating apart far enough to bond anew and create completely different compounds).Sometimes, a matching frequency signature can even manipulate the intricate electrical signals of the human mind.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49





	Rhythmic Frequencies

_Everything in the universe - every element, every compound and every structure - has it's own frequency signature. If met with a matching frequency, the structure begins to experience a chaotic change in balance. Sometimes, this results in a catastrophic failure of structural integrity (like glass shattering by the sonic blast of a jet breaking the sound barrier). Sometimes, this results in a change in structure entirely (compound elements vibrating apart far enough to bond anew and create completely different compounds)._

_Sometimes, a matching frequency signature can even manipulate the intricate electrical signals of the human mind._

* * *

Some people are fortunate enough to find something that they can fall into so deeply that the rest of the world around them can fade into nothing. Something that entrances them into bliss. For some, it is mediation; the act of retreating into one's own mind and traversing the astral plane of their own creation. For some, it is art; the beauty of creating something from nothing. For some, it is religion; giving yourself over so entirely to something bigger than yourself. Some would call these things bliss. Derek would call them _anchors_.

For Stiles, his anchor is the deep, wavering vibration of bass. He once spent every dime he had on the best headphones he could find to get that head-rattling sound that could erase every thought from his mind and replace it with fantastical nothingness.

This has always been the case.

The first time Stiles heard Peter's sub-sonic growl, the boy could hardly believe that sound had come from a person.

He had been kidnapped by hunters. Four days had passed and Stiles saw no help of being rescued. Then, all of a sudden, Peter was there. Outside the small slit in the door to his dark concrete cell, with his cheek pressed to the cold metal to see what was happening outside, he watched Peter take bullet after bullet for him. He watched him fight hunters off by hand, rip their throats out with his claws. Blood was everywhere.

All the while, snarls filled the hallways, nearly as loud as the shouts, screams and gunshots.

Stiles scrambled away from the metal door before it was torn off its hinges and thrown down the hallway. Zombiewolf stood there, chest heaving, blood of his victims dripping down his face and arms, and then he grinned. "Found yourself all alone again, did you?"

Stiles let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and stepped closer to the blue-eyed werewolf. "Found yourself on a mass murder spree again, did you?"

"This one was truly well intentioned." Peter stepped into the room and held out a blood-soaked hand. "Come on, darling."

That's when half the building collapsed. A hunter had managed to escape Peter and came back with a rocket launcher, destroying the entire building in an attempt to kill him.

Most of it was still a blur to Stiles. He had been unscathed, other than a few scratches, miraculously. Peter, on the other hand, was pinned down with the weight of a huge chunk of unmovable concrete on top of him and had a four-inch metal pipe through his thigh, skewering him to the ground.

Stiles remembers utter darkness. Remembers crying out in fear, grabbing Peter's jacket and listening to the man's pained gasps. Remembers digging for some kind of gap, searching for some kind of escape, but finding themselves trapped in a small space hardly large enough to move much at all.

He remembers the sounds of the firetrucks. The fear that consumed Stiles - they're going to see the bodies. They're going to find Peter. They're going to know the extent to which he could be the monster everyone always thought he was.

He remembers laying his head on Peter's chest, exhausted and scared, and finally hearing the sub-sonic growl. It was a growl of stress, anguish, pain, fear and rage. A growl brought about by that which no word could describe. The last sound to leave his body, surely, should that day come again.

He remembers laying there with his head on Peter's chest, cold and in pain with thousands of thoughts racing through his head, and, all at once, all of it vanished.

His eardrums rattled, his head shook with the oscillating ultra-low frequency. Peter's frequency. His eyes fell shut and everything melted away. Not a single thing around him could phase him in that moment. Not even when the concrete above them started to move as the firemen wrestled it away. Not even when the men finally found them, and began to shout to each other. Not even when they finally unpinned Peter and carefully cut the metal pipe that was through his legs. Not even when they advised him to get to the hospital to let them take it out, or when Peter ignored them and ripped the damn thing out with a snarl. Not even when one of the firemen had said, "What _are_ you??"

Stiles only opened his eyes again when Peter was suddenly gone. Suddenly scrambling away, running from the mess he had left.

Stiles looked up at the firemen, knowing he was covered in blood that wasn't his own. Knowing he was in one of the most tricky situations he's found himself in in a long while.

He stood up and shaky legs and stood in front of the shock-still, confused and wary firemen who had no idea what they were dealing with. "Forget everything you saw today," he'd choked out of a raw throat, before wincing at every movement as he crawled over the wreckage and followed Peter's path into the woods.

Peter had found him later, deep into the night, and held him when he collapsed into exhaustion.

They fell asleep in each other's arms against a tree that night. Neither of them said a word. Neither of them had to. No words would make it better.

Weeks later, after both of them had fully recovered and moved past it, Stiles saw Peter again for the first time.

It was during a pack meeting at the loft. Derek was going on about something that Stiles didn't much care for, and Peter had ventured down from the spiral staircase, taking a seat somewhere halfway and watching from afar.

They met eyes.

Stiles couldn't help but think of that vibration - that deep frequency that so perfectly quieted Stiles' chaotic mind. He wanted it.

He spent the meeting wondering how he could get Peter to do it again. Would he have to suffer through another terrible fate to hear that mind-numbing growl again? Could he simply ask for it? Did he have the right to ask for anything from the man?

Would Peter even give it?

"Hey." Stiles walked up to Peter, bringing the man's gaze up from the book in his hands. "I have a question."

He tilted his head back and respectfully closed his book, giving Stiles his full attention.

"That... that sound you made..." Stiles cringed at his own awkwardness and leaned on the railing. "Um. That sub-vocal... super deep growl."

Peter cocked his head, confused curiosity in the shape of his brows. "What about it, dear?"

_I liked it, and I want you to do it for me again._

God, that would sound so creepy and weird. How does he say exactly that without sounding like a freak?

It's not like anyone else would be weirded out by it. Stiles and Peter are the only ones left in the loft. The rest had all gone out into the woods for some pack training exercise.

"Well... You know the kind of music I like," Stiles tried. "I like the deep stuff."

"Like... EDM? Dubstep?"

"Well... Not quite, but sure, whatever. I just - I like bass. It helps me calm down."

Peter stared at him, then his head tilted back the other way in dawning. A smirk tugged at his lips. "I see." He stood up and, with the height difference what with Peter being a step above Stiles, he loomed over the boy. He backed the boy up against the railing and invaded his space, hands on either side of him, clutching the railing. Stiles' breath caught in his throat and he found himself going still. "You mean this sound, little thing?" Peter whispered with warm lips brushing Stiles' ear.

And then... The sub-sonic growl rattled through Peter's chest and straight into his own. He found his eyes closing once again, a chill wracking his body.

"Yeah," he whispered, swallowing as Peter stepped back. Stiles opened his eyes and saw the blue halo of Peter's Omega eyes staring right back. "I... I like how it sounds."

Peter's eyes simmered back down to his normal arctic blue, and they narrowed slightly, like he was trying to read coded text, trying to decipher something without the key. "You certainly never cease to intrigue me, dear boy."

A few nights later, Stiles found himself stressing about the latest creature that had rolled into town. Laying in bed in the dark, anxiety suffocating him, thoughts screaming their horrible words into his ears, he texted Peter.

_-i need your help_

_**-What's wrong?** _

_-anxiety_

_**-Are you home?** _

_-yeah_

_**-Count to 1,000** _

__

Peter came in through his window. He kicked his shoes off, draped his jacket on the back of Stiles' desk chair, and came over to sit on the side of the bed. "Dear, your anxiety is so thick I can hardly smell anything else." Peter sounded the slightest bit _sorry_. "What do you need me to do?" he asked softly.

Stiles bit his lip, staring into the darkness, wishing he had super-sight. Wishing he could see Peter's face and his icy blue eyes. "Lay down?"

Peter obeyed and slid down under the covers, taking a moment to get comfy on his back.

Once he was still, Stiles reached out and touched his arm, slowly inching closer. "Just... tell me if I cross a line."

"You've killed me before, dear," Peter told him, reaching out to him and pulling him against his chest, just like he somehow knew he wanted. "There are no more lines to cross."

Stiles disagreed, but didn't reply. He rested his head on top of Peter's chest and waited for the sound to come.

Peter took in a breath, and there it was.

Stiles was finally free from the voices. Drowned out by the all-encompassing, bone-rattling noise. Peter's perfect frequency eviscerated the horde of voices that kept Stiles from peace in his own mind, just like a certain frequency can shatter glass, or split wood, or ring metal.

One day he'd like to calculate exactly what frequency Peter's sub-vocal growl claimed. Until that day, though, he'd simply enjoy it for what it was.

Freedom.

"I like your growl," Stiles said eventually, needlessly.

"I like your heartbeat," Peter whispered back.

It became normal for them. If Stiles was on the edge, Peter would come over and 'purr' for him, as Stiles liked to call it, just to tease him a little. If Peter was on the edge, he'd come over and 'purr' for him, just to listen to Stiles' erratic heartbeat finally steady into something rhythmic and calm.

Their very biological oscillations lulled each other into a sense of peace unlike anything else. 

And who says there's no romance in science?

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah that was probably a little weird but whatevs. I like bass. If I close my eyes and listen to chillstep/synthwave (those genres have really good gentle and consistent bass without all the treble and 'drops' of dubstep or edm) on high volume with my really good bass earbuds, I can finally feel the voices shut the fuck up.  
> 
> 
> In case you were curious in experiencing a new genera of music vvv
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tKMmMHyLBCE - Chillstep Mix 2019  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dgCnYsDTiXU - Cybercity, A Synthwave Mix
> 
> Hope you enjoyed anyway. Leave some kudos, hopefully even a comment. I write these stories, like many others, to bare my soul to others, however hidden in disguise, to feel a little less unknown in the vast world around them.  
> My only hope is that you don't entirely mind what you see.


End file.
